Attack of the Sludge Monsters
by El Kaye
Summary: Why is P.T. detecting a foul odor in Northeast Southweston? Why are all the flowers at the Sunshine Flower Farms dying? And why won't anyone believe Bugs when he insists the pollution from a nearby factory has come to life?
1. Act One

The secret word is: "Slime"

Northeast Southweston . . . a bustling burgh brimming with the palpable promise of plentiful potentials and possibilities. Yes, life in our fair city has perpetually been pleasant, to put it pithily. But presently, Northeast Southweston really stinks.

"Gosh, P.T. That's not a very nice thing to say," Doomsday pointed out.

"I know, Doomsday," I agreed. "And I didn't enjoy saying it. But there is definitely a malodorous aroma in the air."

"Are you sure it isn't just Doomsday's sandwich? Pastrami and pickles on pimento loaf?" Bugs asked.

"Well, that is a bit pungent, too," I admitted. "But no . . . this is something else."

"I wish I had some Provolone to go with this," Doomsday said, taking another large bite of his sandwich.

"Your sandwiches are becoming as alliterative as P.T.'s narrations, Doomsday," Doc commented.

"If alliterative is another word for complicated, I agree!" Bugs chimed in.

"So none of you have smelled anything unusual lately?" I asked.

"Not since Bugs stopped wearing that weird cologne," Doomsday answered.

"But Sgt. Vinton still wears it," Doc pointed out.

"Yeah, but somehow it doesn't smell as weird on Sgt. Vinton," Doomsday stated.

Doc could see that Bugs was about to let loose with some choice words, so he cut him off by asking me, "So, what exactly does this unusual odor smell like?"

"I'm not sure," I answered. "Seymour never smelled anything like it before."

"Well, maybe you should let Seymour take a sniff and then try to explain it to us," Doc suggested.

"That's a good idea," I agreed. I raised my head and let Seymour, my nose, take a few sniffs. "Let's see," I hummed in thought, "It smells like . . . " [sniff] " . . . pendulous pansies . . . " [sniff] " . . . drooping daisies and . . . " [sniff sniff] " . . . collapsed chrysanthemums."

"_That's_ what you've been smelling around town?" Bugs asked incredulously.

"It doesn't sound that terrible," Doomsday said. "In fact, it sounds kind of pretty."

"If you ignore the pendulous, drooping and collapsing part," Doc added.

"That's not what Seymour's been smelling around the city lately," I corrected. "But that _is_ what Seymour is smelling now."

"Maybe Seymour's out of whack," Bugs suggested. "There aren't any flowers around here, especially not dead ones."

The door of the C.A.P.E.R. room opened and a girl entered. She had cinnamon brown long hair and wore a blue pastel pair of overalls with a yellow t-shirt beneath. She was also carrying a sad-looking handful of dead flowers.

"I need help!" she said urgently.

"Well, your flowers certainly do!" Doomsday cried, dropping his sandwich and running to her side. He gently cupped his hands around the sagging blooms. "Poor little things! We have to save them!"

"You'd be better off seeing a tree surgeon," Bugs suggested. "He could get to the root of your problem."

"It's a respectable branch of medicine," I added.

"Unless you happen to get a quack," Bugs said.

"In which case he would probably only treat duckweed," Doc noted.

The girl simply ignored us. Her attention was focused on Doomsday, whose attention was focused on the flowers. "Do you think we can still save them?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't know," Doomsday said. "But I've always heard that talking to flowers helps them to grow."

Doomsday and the girl looked at each other, then Doomsday looked down at the flowers and said gently, "Hello there, little flowers!"

"Hello, little flowers!" the girl joined in.

"Don't die, little flowers!" Doomsday said sweetly.

"We want you to live, little flowers!" the girl sang.

"Perhaps they'd prefer some peace and quiet so they can convalesce," Doc suggested.

After a few minutes of speaking to the flowers, the girl placed a hand on Doomsday's arm. "I'm afraid it's too late for these flowers," she informed him gently.

"Oh," Doomsday sighed sadly. "We could have a funeral for them, I guess."

"Would you send flowers to a funeral for flowers?" I asked Doc.

"Seems a bit redundant, really," Doc replied.

"Look, we're not doctors," Bugs explained to the girl.

"Or morticians," Doc added.

"Botanical or otherwise," I agreed.

"But the police out front said you could help me," the girl explained. "You see, I have a mystery I need solved."

"In that case, you've come to the right place!" I assured her. "Because while we may not be agricultural specialists we are in fact . . . "

We all stood at attention and recited, "The Civilian Authority for the Protection of Everybody, Regardless!"

"Tadaa!" sang Doc.

"Tadaa!" sang Doomsday.

"Tadaa!" sang Bugs.

"Tadaa!" I finished, concluding with a swinging version of "Tiptoe Through the Tulips."

"That's very nice," the girl nodded her approval. "I belong to a choral group as well."

"What's your name?" Doomsday asked with a smile.

"Doris," the girl answered. "Doris Morris."

"And you're with a chorus?" Bugs asked.

"Yes, but primarily I'm a florist," she explained.

"Well, Doris Morris, a florist in the chorus," I said, "what mystery do you have for us?"

"We promise it won't bore us," Doc chimed in.

"In fact, we hope you'll adore us," Bugs smiled, making eyes at her.

She looked at Doomsday expectantly.

"So, what's the mystery?" he asked, not picking up on our theme.

Doris let out a sigh of relief. "Well, at least _one_ of you is making some sense!" she said.

Doc, Bugs and I gave each other a confused look. "I guess she prefers to ignore us," I sighed.

"I own a little organic flower farm on the outskirts of town," Doris explained to Doomsday. "But lately, all of my flowers have been dying!"

"Gosh, that can't be good for business!" Doomsday gasped.

"It certainly isn't!" Doris assured him. "No one wants to buy dead flowers."

"Are we safe in assuming that you have made no significant changes in your usual routine which might have altered the course of your plants' natural life cycles?" Doc asked.

"Huh?" both Doris and Doomsday asked with puzzled looks on their faces.

"You haven't done anything different lately?" I interpreted for her.

"Is _that_ what he said?" Doris asked, looking even more confused. "No . . . I'm using the same land, same water, same fertilizer . . . but look . . . " She held up the flowers once more. "My poor petunias!"

"Don't worry," Doomsday assured her. "We'll do everything we can to help you."

"Oh, I'm sure you will!" Doris smiled at him. "You must be the leader here because you're so very smart!"

"_Doomsday?"_ Doc, Bugs and I cried.

"Well, he's the only one of you guys I understand!" she said before turning back to Doomsday. "That's your name? Doomsday? I like it!"

"Thanks!" Doomsday smiled, then he introduced us in turn. "That's P.T., that's Bugs and that's Doc."

"Oh, how nice!" Doris said. "You have some interesting boys working for you!"

"_For _him?" Bugs asked incredulously.

"Oh no, you don't understand . . . " Doomsday began. "I'm not . . . "

"If anyone can help me, I just know _you_ can!" Doris said, clutching the flowers tightly with a look of hope in her eyes.

"I _can?" _Doomsday asked, gulping slightly. "But . . . . "

"Of course he can!" I said, stepping forward and placing a supportive hand on Doomsday's shoulder. "So, intrepid leader, what should be our first step?"

"Well, uh . . . " Doomsday thought, giving it a lot of effort. He looked at me with confusion but I just nodded encouragement. "Uh . . . I guess the first thing we should do is . . . go to Doris' flower farm?"

"Very good!" I smiled. I then leaned over toward Doris and said, "See? He's a born leader!"

Doomsday looked more confident now. "We were too late to save _these_ flowers, but maybe if we talk to the other flowers we can still save _them!"_ he suggested.

"And if that doesn't work, perhaps we could try to figure out what's killing the flowers in the first place," Doc added with an amused smirk.

"Oh yeah!" Doomsday nodded as he took Doris by the hand and led her to the door. "Come on, Doris. I'll take you to the Big Bologna."

"Big Bologna?" Doris asked with a smile and she leaned into Doomsday's arm as they exited. "I like bologna! Is that what I smell on your breath?"

"And just like that Doomsday gets the girl?" Bugs asked with frustration. "How does _that_ happen?"

"Don't be upset, Bugs," Doc sighed. "How often is Doomsday going to find a girl who's his intellectual equal?"

"And it won't hurt to let Doomsday be in charge for once," I pointed out as Doc and I walked out the door.

"Yeah, well, even if Doomsday _is_ the leader, there's no way I'm talking to a bunch of flowers!" Bugs insisted as he followed us.

Soon we were all seated in the Big Bologna and Bugs took the wheel as we headed for Doris' flower farm. As our vehicle pulled away from the front of the police station, Kurt Klinsinger pulled up to the same curb on his motorbike.

"_Hmmm, I wonder where they're going?"_ the reporter thought to himself. _"They may be on to a big story!"_ He revved his engine and pulled away from the curb, following us from a distance.

* * *

As we pulled through the front gate of the Sunshine Flower Farms on the outskirts of town, Bugs announced loudly, "Okay, we're here!" He said this with a tone of relief in his voice, probably because Doomsday and Doris had been serenading Mr. Featherstone with repeated choruses of 'The Three Little Fishies' throughout most of the trip. Granted, I probably didn't help matters by joining in on Ish Kabibble's parts.

Upon exiting the vehicle, I gave a start. The stench which had been plaguing Seymour the past week or so was even stronger here. "Now don't tell me you can't smell _that!" _I exclaimed.

The others sniffed at the air. "There _is_ kind of a weird smell," Doc admitted. "Is that what Seymour's been smelling lately?"

I nodded. "But it's much stronger here."

"What is it?" Bugs asked, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"I don't know," Doris said, "but I've been smelling it off and on for a while now. It somehow seems worse whenever I leave and come back."

"Your nose gets used to the smell," Doc explained.

"I don't think Seymour could ever get used to _that!"_ I argued.

"Here, look!" Doris said as she led us to her fields and motioned around her.

We stood eyeing the rows of flowers and could immediately see the problem. The poor little plants didn't look at all well.

"This is so sad!" Doomsday sighed, then he looked determined and rolled up his sleeves. "This is going to take some very sweet and loving words to reverse this!"

"That's my cue to excuse myself," Bugs said, turning around to leave.

"Actually, I'm sure Doomsday was planning to tell the three of us to look around to see if we can find anything to explain what's happening while he and Doris give the flowers some encouraging words," I said. "Weren't you, Doomsday?"

"Gosh, was I, P.T.?" Doomsday asked with surprise. "That sounds like a good idea!"

"You're just full of good ideas, Doomsday!" Doris smiled.

"Really? I had no idea!" Doomsday said in awe.

"We'll get right on it, Doomsday," Doc assured him.

Doc, Bugs and I walked away and left Doomsday and Doris to talk sweetly to the flowers.

"You were right, P.T.," Bugs said. "Having Doomsday in charge isn't so bad."

"Yeah, so far it's a lot like having _you_ in charge," Doc smiled at me.

"Don't underestimate Doomsday," I told them. "He has his moments."

"Cheer up, little flowers!" we could hear Doomsday calling behind us. "Don't die! You have so much to live for!"

"Is this one of them?" Bugs asked.

Doc had walked over to a faucet at the end of one of the rows of dying flowers. He squatted down and turned it on, studying the water coming out. "Looks like she's using the city's water," he noted. "It doesn't seem like the smell is coming from here."

I leaned over and let Seymour sniff at the water. "No, definitely not," I confirmed.

Doc turned off the water and stood up, looking over the fields. "Do you guys notice anything strange?"

"You mean besides Klinsinger sneaking around over there behind the tool shed?" I asked.

"And besides Doomsday and Doris singing 'Where Have All the Flowers Gone?'" Bugs added.

"Yes, besides those strange things," Doc said.

We looked at the field of flowers, trying to figure out what Doc had seen. Finally it dawned on me. "The decay of the flowers is worse on the left side of the field than the right," I pointed out.

"Exactly," Doc nodded.

"And you know what?" I asked. "The smell is stronger coming from that direction as well."

"Then it stands to reason we should investigate what's beyond the left side of the farm," Doc deduced. "Come on."

We walked past the edge of the farm and through some bushes. From there we could see an open field on the other side of a small brook.

Moving down a small incline, we stood at the edge of the brook. The smell was even stronger here and Seymour wrinkled with displeasure. There was a strange, iridescent sheen on the still sections of the water which reflected back rainbow colors to us not unlike an oil slick.

"Worse here?" Doc asked me.

I nodded. "Definitely. But according to Seymour it's even worse further upstream."

Doc looked in that direction, thinking. "There's a remote industrial area up that way, as well as the phone company's switching station."

"There used to be a manufacturing plant over there, too," I reminded them. "But I think it went out of business last year."

Doc looked down at the water with a frown. "If there is something polluting the water, it could definitely be seeping into the ground here and affecting the plants."

Doomsday and Doris stepped through the bushes above us, looking concerned. "Hey fellas, Doris says she saw someone sneaking around the farm!" Doomsday said worriedly.

"Oh, that's just Klinsinger looking for another big scoop," Bugs explained.

"Oh!" Doomsday sighed with relief. He turned to Doris and assured her, "It's okay. He tends to follow us around for some reason."

"Well, I sure hope he isn't going to do a story about my failing flower farm!" Doris said sadly. "My business is doing poorly enough without any bad publicity."

"Don't worry," I told Doris. "If he hasn't popped out exclaiming about finding the latest, greatest, award-winning story yet, that means he's still looking."

"And I think we may have uncovered a bigger story already," Doc said. "Something seems to be polluting the ground water."

"Oh no, that's terrible!" Doomsday cried.

"What do you think we should do?" I asked Doomsday.

"Well, I think we should find out where the pollution is coming from and stop it!" Doomsday said adamantly.

"A very good suggestion," Doc agreed. "Let's follow this brook upstream and see if we can't find the source of the slick and the smell."

We walked along the bank of the stream for a while, and as we proceeded the noxious smell grew increasingly worse. Every once in a while I caught the sound of Klinsinger stumbling along somewhere behind us, trying to keep up while attempting to remain out of sight.

Finally we rounded a bend where we found the source of the stream. It wasn't large enough to be a lake but was certainly larger than a pond. Half of it was blocked off by a dilapidated chain link fence which encircled the old manufacturing plant. Two things were immediately obvious: the factory was up and running again and the water was badly polluted. Poor Seymour could hardly contend with the foul stench emanating from the shiny black ooze which lapped at the shoreline.

"Ooh, this is nasty!" Bugs complained, pinching his nose.

"What _is_ that stuff?" Doris asked.

"Well, it isn't oil or tar," I said, covering Seymour with one hand.

"But it's obvious that whatever it is it's coming from the factory," Doc pointed out.

"I didn't even know the factory was in operation again," I said.

"This is terrible," Doomsday sighed sadly. "No wonder your poor little flowers are dying! And there aren't any animals around here at all. This stuff must be driving them away."

"This can't be legal," I complained.

"I would hope not," Doc agreed, reaching into his inside breast pocket and retrieving a Petrie dish. "But we'll need to examine the substance to determine how detrimental it may be. Which means, we need a sample."

We all looked at the icky black muck with disgust. "Well, collecting samples doesn't require any cleverness," I was quick to point out.

"Or brains," Doc added.

"Or even sweetness," I finished as Doc and I looked expectantly at Bugs.

"Now wait a minute," Bugs protested, holding his hands up and taking a step back. "I thought Doomsday was the leader. Let's hear what _he_ has to say about it!" Bugs turned to Doomsday with a look of hope.

"They're making a lot of sense to me," Doomsday said.

"Me, too," Doris agreed. "For once."

Bugs sighed in defeat and took the Petrie dish from Doc. "Okay, okay . . . at least I don't have to _talk_ to it!" Bugs walked over to the water's edge and squatted down to get the sample.

"After Bugs gets the sample, we should go to the factory and ask them if they know about this," Doomsday suggested.

"They have to be aware of what's happening," Doc noted.

"Do you think so?" Doomsday asked with surprise. "I can't believe anyone would pollute like this on purpose."

"Yes," Doris agreed. "I'm sure when they find out what this stuff is doing to my flowers they'll want to stop it."

Doc and I exchanged a look. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get their side of the story," Doc sighed.

I shrugged. "Doomsday is the leader, after all. And we might be able to gain some useful information by going there."

Bugs eyed the slimy black ooze with trepidation, wrinkling his nose as he worked up the nerve to dip the Petrie dish into it. Slowly he lowered the dish closer to the surface of the water, but before he could scoop up the slimy sludge it separated on the surface, moving away from the container. Bugs' furrowed his brows as he tried to understand this. He again attempted to scoop up some of the ooze but it moved away just ahead of the dish, at the same time changing momentarily from a shiny black to a muddy red color.

With growing frustration, Bugs pulled the dish away and waited until the slick settled. He brought the dish down more quickly, but hesitated at the last moment. The ooze seemed to swirl in place for a moment, then suddenly it bulged upward toward his hand. Bugs let out a yelp as he pulled away quickly, falling back onto the bank and quickly scrambling away from the water's edge.

"Well, did you get the sample?" Doc asked as Bugs backed into Doc's legs.

"Th . . . th . . . that . . . that stuff!" Bugs stammered nervously. "It . . . it . . . !"

"Yes, I know it's unpleasant, but we have a job to do," Doc sighed impatiently.

"But it tried to attack me!" Bugs complained.

"The sludge tried to attack you?" I asked with surprise. "How?"

"It jumped at me!" Bugs cried.

"It jumped at you?" Doc asked incredulously, then he rolled his eyes and reached down to take the dish from Bugs. "Look, if you don't want to get the sample, just say so!"

Doc walked over to the water's edge as Bugs watched on in horror. "No, Doc! Look out!" Bugs cried out.

But Doc had leaned down and, without hesitation, scooped up some of the ooze into the dish and twisted the lid into place before wiping off the exterior with his handkerchief. "Honestly, Bugs . . . I think you watch too many late night horror films on television."

"But it _did_ jump at me!" Bugs insisted. "And it changed color, too!"

"Maybe the nasty smell is making him hallucinate," I speculated.

"That stuff isn't normal!" Bugs insisted.

"Well, we know that," Doc said. "That's why we have to test it."

"Let's go back to the Big Bologna and drive over to the factory to investigate," I suggested.

We turned around and headed back downstream to Doris' flower farm as Bugs continued to try to convince us that the sludge had jumped at him. We caught sight of Klinsinger as he scrambled to conceal himself (not very successfully) amidst some tall reeds, but we just let him be. When we were past him and he thought we were out of earshot, he leapt out of the reeds.

"What a scoop!" Klinsinger exclaimed to himself. "Rampant pollution! Environmental disaster! This will be the latest, greatest, award-winning story of my long, illustrious career!"

I turned back to Doris and said, "See? _Now_ he's got his story."

We continued on our way as Klinsinger headed for a gap in the chain-link fence with the intention of sneaking inside the factory grounds. Unfortunately his supposedly keen reporter's eyes didn't observe that the sludge along the side of the water seemed to be following him.

* * *

Before too long we were pulling in through the front gate of the factory. A sign on the fence read "Mystic Manufacturing," which told us very little. The horrible smell, which had seemed weaker when we returned to the Sunshine Flower Farms and then grown stronger again the closer we drew to the factory, was assailing poor Seymour even worse than before.

A security guard met us at a sentry post just inside the gate. Bugs rolled down the driver's side window, and a gust of wind blew the stench into the vehicle, causing even Mr. Featherstone to mumble in disgust and take shelter under water.

"How can I help you, boys?" the elderly security guard asked.

I did my best to ignore the smell and spoke to the man over Bugs from the front passenger seat. "We were wondering if we could meet with the President of Mystic Manufacturing?"

"Do you have an appointment?" the man asked.

"No, this is an impromptu visit," I explained. "But it's very important we see him."

"Yeah, we're with the police and we have some questions for him," Bugs added.

"Just a moment . . . let me see if he's available," the security guard said, and he walked over to the sentry shack and picked up a telephone receiver.

"This should be very telling," Doc noted from the back. "If he refuses to see us, then that means he may have something to hide."

We waited while the security guard spoke on the phone a few minutes, then he hung up and walked back to us. "Mr. Mystic has a pretty full schedule today . . . "

"There you go," Doc said.

" . . . but he said if it's a police matter he'd be more than happy to meet with you," the guard finished.

"He would?" Doc asked with surprise.

The security guard pointed toward the front of the factory. "Just turn left at the end of this drive and you can park by the offices over there. Mr. Mystic will be out to greet you shortly."

"Thanks," Bugs said. He was about to roll up the window when he thought to ask the man, "Say . . . how can you stand to work out here when it smells so bad?"

"Is there a smell in the air?" the man asked, taking a moment to sniff.

"You can't smell that?" I asked in disbelief.

"I'm not exactly a youngster any more, Sonny," the guard explained. "I'm afraid the acuteness of my senses have left me."

"You haven't seen any sludge crawling around here lately, have you?" Bugs asked.

"Excuse me?" the guard asked with a look of bewilderment.

"Never mind," I told the man as I pointed to Bugs. "His senses have taken leave of him as well."

Bugs gave me a sharp look and then rolled up the window and drove the Big Bologna down the driveway toward the factory. "I'm not crazy, you know," he insisted.

"Well, I have to admit that's a surprise," Doc commented.

"That I'm not crazy?" Bugs cried with indignation.

"No, that Mr. Mystic agreed to see us!" Doc explained. "There's no question about you being crazy."

"You see?" Doomsday said. "I'm sure this company doesn't mean to do any harm."

"It would be nice to believe that you're right, Doomsday," I sighed.

Bugs pulled the Big Bologna into a parking space outside the offices and we exited the vehicle. Seymour was not at all happy about the intensity of the stench in the area but I did my best to withstand it.

A few moments later a man wearing dress slacks and a white shirt with a tie exited the building. He stopped momentarily, eyeing us with surprise. But he quickly composed himself and approached us, smiling.

"Hello. I'm Marvin Mystic," he said, holding out his hand which I shook in greeting.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice, Mr. Mystic," I offered sincerely.

He looked from us to the Big Bologna and said, "I thought you said you were with the police department?"

"We are," I quickly assured him. "The 927th precinct, to be precise. We're interns."

"Oh, I see," Mr. Mystic nodded. "I naturally expected to see uniformed officers. But that's all right. So, what is the nature of your visit today? Nothing serious, I hope."

"I'd say monstrous sludge is pretty serious," Bugs said under his breath.

"We hope not," I quickly covered. "But we do have some questions about your operations."

"Well, why don't you step inside where we can talk?" Mr. Mystic offered. "I'd be happy to show you around!"

We followed the man into the office building, where thankfully the smell was much less strong. As we walked through the corridors to his office, I asked, "So, when did you start production in this facility?"

"Just about nine months ago," Mr. Mystic answered. "I were looking for a base of operation and this plant turned out to be perfect for what I needed. I was very lucky to get this place at all. The owner said that the amount I offered just barely surpassed someone else's bid."

Doc ventured to ask, "Are you aware of the foul aroma your factory is creating in this area?"

"Oh, is that what you're here about?" Mr. Mystic asked, turning toward us for a moment and walking backwards so he could answer Doc. "I'm afraid that's an unavoidable result of our manufacturing process. But when you see what we're creating, I'm sure you'll agree it's a small price to pay!"

We entered the man's office and he stepped behind his desk and pulled open a drawer. He paused a moment, as if he were debating about something, then shook his head. "It's close enough to our launch now . . . I can trust you boys to keep a secret without having to sign any confidentiality agreements, can't I?"

"As long as what you're doing is legal," I assured him.

Mr. Mystic smiled excitedly. "Okay, then . . . hold out your hand . . . "

I looked at him strangely. "Should I shut my eyes as well?"

"If you want," Mr. Mystic answered seriously.

I looked back at the others, who shrugged, then held out my hand with my eyes closed. A moment later I felt something placed in my palm. It didn't feel particularly remarkable; it just felt like a small, round object, not unlike a rock. I opened my eyes to look and saw . . . a rock.

"It's a rock," I stated.

"Ah, but not just _any_ rock!" Mr. Mystic assured me, still grinning.

Doc had walked over and eyed the rock in my hand. "Certainly not any rock I've ever seen before," he said.

"It feels strange," I agreed.

"Close your hand around it," Mr. Mystic coaxed.

I closed my hand around the rock and noted that it seemed to have a strange, smooth coating on it. It also felt oddly light.

Mr. Mystic was watching this with great excitement. "Okay . . . now open your hand."

I opened my hand and saw that the rock was now a strange combination of colors, but predominantly blue.

"There you go!" Mr. Mystic stated proudly. "How about that?"

"That's pretty!" Doomsday said as he and Doris looked at the colored rock.

"Pretty weird," Bugs added.

"But what is it?" Doc asked, taking the rock from me and studying it.

"It's the next biggest fad," Mr. Mystic explained. "It's a mood rock!"

"A mood rock?" we all repeated, as if we hadn't hear correctly.

Mr. Mystic nodded excitedly. "A combination pet rock and mood ring. It's going to be _huge!"_

"You mean, you're going to make them even bigger than this?" Doomsday asked with confusion.

"I had a pet rock once," I said.

"What happened to it?" Doomsday asked.

"It didn't feel appreciated, so it ran away," I replied. "I guess I took it for granite."

"You should have been boulder in your discipline," Bugs said.

Doc was rolling the mood rock in his hand. "This isn't an actual rock," he said.

"You mean it's a mock rock?" I asked.

Doc nodded. "It's a manufactured piece of . . . something . . . but what?"

"Ah, now that's a trade secret," Mr. Mystic said, taking the mood rock back. "The mood formula wouldn't stick to just any rock, so we had to create a base substance for the rock itself."

"And this is the revolutionary thing that's worth all of the pollution you're creating?" Bugs asked.

"Pollution?" Mr. Mystic asked with surprise.

"In case you haven't noticed, your factory isn't only exuding a foul odor but a potentially toxic by-product into the surrounding environment as well," Doc explained.

"Oh, now that's not possible," Mr. Mystic insisted. "We carefully contain all waste by-product for proper disposal. Now I admit the smell is something we can't really contain, but believe me, we follow every regulation the law requires."

"When was the last time you took a look around your property?" Doc asked.

"I admit it's been a while," Mr. Mystic said.

"Maybe you'd better come have a look with us," I suggested.

"By all means!" Mr. Mystic agreed, following us out the door.

Stepping outside again was torture for poor Seymour, but I fought back the growing feeling of disorienting discomfort as we escorted Mr. Mystic around the office building and down a path which led to the edge of the water on his property. The water continued into a cement culvert which actually ran underneath part of the factory.

"Don't get too close!" Bugs warned us. "There's no telling what it might do!" He started looking around the ground nearby as if searching for something.

Mr. Mystic approached the waterline and a look of horror crossed his face when he saw the black, slimy goo lining the edge. "This isn't possible!" he gasped. "No, we have safety measures in place to prevent this kind of thing!"

"Obviously they're not working," I stated.

"Obviously," Mr. Mystic said worriedly, running a hand over his chin.

"And this stuff is flowing downstream and killing the flowers on my flower farm!" Doris explained.

"And there aren't any animals around here," Doomsday pointed out. "This stuff is ruining their homes."

"I'm so, so sorry," Mr. Mystic offered sincerely. "I really didn't know this was happening! I guess I just trusted that the safeguards I put in place were adequate." He turned to us and said, "I am so glad you boys pointed this out to me. I'll do everything I can to set it right. And Miss, I'll certainly compensate you for your losses."

"I just want to be able to grow my flowers again," Doris said sadly.

Bugs had picked up a long stick he'd found and quickly pushed passed us. "Okay, now . . . watch this!" he said. We gathered around as Bugs pushed the end of the stick into the sludge and moved it around. The black ooze swirled as the stick pushed through it, but that was all.

"Yes, it is pretty nasty," Mr. Mystic agreed, not understanding what Bugs was trying to show him. "I'll make some calls and get a hazardous materials team out here right away."

We turned away from Bugs as he continued to prod at the slime with the stick. "We're certainly glad to hear that you're going to do something about this right away," I told Mr. Mystic.

"I'm just sorry I didn't know about it sooner," Mr. Mystic sighed. "It certainly isn't the legacy I wanted to leave Northeast Southweston."

Bugs was becoming more aggravated as he poked at the slime more adamantly. "Come on! Move! Change color! Anything!" he grumbled.

He suddenly felt the stick being pulled away and grabbed it with both hands, holding on tightly. He planted his feet firmly on the bank and braced himself as he found himself engaged in an earnest tug of war with the slime. Unfortunately our backs were turned and we didn't see this ensuing struggle.

"We took a sample of the substance and I'm going to give it a thorough examination," Doc told Mr. Mystic. "I'll be sure to inform you of my findings so you can pass the information along to the hazardous materials team. It might speed up the process somewhat."

"That would be wonderful," Mr. Mystic said.

"We should head back to the C.A.P.E.R. room so Doc can begin his experiments," I said, then remembering I added, "Right, Doomsday?"

"Sure, P.T.," Doomsday said. "If we can tear Bugs away from whatever it is he's doing."

We looked at Bugs, who still seemed to be playing around with the stick in the muck. "Come on, Bugs!" Doc called. "We're leaving!"

"And not a moment too soon," I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't know how much more of this smell Seymour can take."

Bugs was startled when the black ooze started bulging up, taking on some kind of form. He could make out what seemed to be two distinct arm-like protrusions which were holding on to the other end of the stick. Suddenly, it started to pull harder and Bugs felt his feet slipping closer to the ooze which seemed to be inching towards him. We couldn't see this, however, because Bugs was standing between us and the slime.

"Thank you again for alerting me to this problem!" Mr. Mystic said.

"Just doing our job," I assured him. "Rest assured that the Kids from C.A.P.E.R. will always be on top of things."

At this moment Bugs pulled back even harder right when the sludge released its grip on the stick, sending him flying backwards. Anticipating what was about to happen, Doc took a strategic step back as Bugs stumbled past him and collided with Doomsday and I, knocking us to the ground as he fell on top of us.

"Including each other," Doc added.

"Did you see that?" Bugs asked, sitting up excitedly. "Did you see it trying to pull me in? It's alive!"

"Oh Bugs," Doc sighed, reaching down to take Bugs' hand and pull him to his feet. "It's not scientifically possible for sludge to come to life."

"It's not?" Bugs asked.

"No," Doc insisted.

"Well, then you'd better tell the sludge that!" Bugs countered.

"Oh Doomsday, are you all right?" Doris asked as she helped Doomsday to his feet.

"I'm fine," Doomsday assured her. "But I don't like the sound of this living sludge stuff! It sounds creepy!"

"Bugs, are you sure you're not just imagining things?" I asked as he turned to help me to my feet.

"I'm not imagining it!" Bugs insisted. "That stuff is alive!"

"But there's no precedence for such a thing," Doc countered.

"Oh no?" Bugs asked. "Didn't you see 'Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster?'"

"Ooh, that was scary!" Doomsday said, his eyes widening.

"Somehow I don't think Toho Company Limited is considered a viable reference source by the greater scientific community," Doc pointed out.

"Well, living or not, whatever that stuff is it needs to be dealt with," I pointed out. "So let's get back to the station so Doc can conduct his experiments."

"I'm going to see if I can't find the source of the leak," Mr. Mystic told us. "That way I can put a stop to the spill and prevent this from becoming worse."

"We'll give you a call later today when we know what we're dealing with," Doc promised the man. "Come on, guys."

We turned to head back to the Big Bologna as Mr. Mystic headed towards the factory, walking down the cement walkway along the water's edge that led into the culvert. Bugs hesitated, almost calling out a warning to Mr. Mystic, but when he saw we were leaving he hurried to catch up with us.

Doris was walking alongside Doomsday in front of us. "You know, Doomsday, you sure don't do much of the talking in this group," she noted.

Doc and I looked at each other worriedly. We had set Doomsday up to be in charge to impress Doris and we certainly didn't want to ruin it for him. I quickly tried to think of some explanation for this.

Doris smiled prettily and leaned closer to Doomsday. "I like the strong and silent type," she said. "They're the best kind of leaders!"

Doc and I exhaled with relief.

"Would you like to come back to the C.A.P.E.R. room with us?" Doomsday asked. "We could watch Doc work and I could buy you a late lunch / early dinner from the vending machines upstairs. They have Sno Balls!"

"Oh, that would be nice!" Doris agreed. "I've never watched a scientific experiment before!"

"Maybe when Doc's done analyzing the slime he can analyze what's actually inside of the Sno Balls," I joked.

"I'm telling ya, fellas . . . that stuff is dangerous!" Bugs insisted as he came up behind us, looking back to see Mr. Mystic approaching the culvert then turning away from it to walk up to the factory.

"Well, we'll know for sure when we get back to the C.A.P.E.R. room," Doc assured him.

Bugs thought he heard a noise and looked back again. He was surprised when he realized Mr. Mystic was no longer in sight. But where could he have disappeared to so quickly? And was that some kind of dark movement he saw just inside the culvert?

"Uh, fellas . . . ?" Bugs began.

"Come on, Bugs!" I urged, and Bugs hesitantly followed.

We climbed into the Big Bologna and Bugs took the wheel.

"Seymour isn't sorry to get out of here!" I told the others.

"Neither am I!" Bugs agreed, pulling the vehicle down the drive.

As we passed the guard shack we saw that it was empty. "Hey, where did the old man go?" Bugs asked.

"He's probably on his break," Doc offered.

"Or the sludge monsters got him, too!" Bugs said.

"Bugs, would you cut it out?" Doc cried. "There is no such thing as a sludge monster!"

"Doc, I sure hope you're right and I'm wrong," Bugs sighed, turning the Big Bologna onto the main road.

"Statistically it's usually the case," I reminded Bugs. "But then stranger things have happened."

Doomsday and Doris sat on the bench in the C.A.P.E.R. room, eating their pre-packaged vending machine late lunch / early dinner. We were waiting for Doc's family driver, James, to arrive with the additional equipment Doc needed from home to conduct his experiments.

"What time is it?" Doc asked.

I looked at my watch. "It's just going on three p.m."

"Ooh, time for Klinsinger's mid-afternoon report!" Bugs said as he hurried to the television set. "I'm sure _he's_ on the track of those sludge monsters! Now you'll see that I was telling the truth!"

Bugs hit the top of the television set to turn it on. We looked at the screen and were surprised to see nothing but an empty desk.

"It's not like Klinsinger to miss his mid-afternoon report," Doc noted.

"This certainly is strange," I agreed. At that moment the turquoise telephone rang and I reached over to answer it.

Doomsday and Doris got up and walked over to look at the television with frowns on their faces. "Usually Mr. Klinsinger's reports are much more interesting than this," Doomsday said.

"Well, at least he's not talking about my failing flower farm!" Doris noted.

"Yes, sir, we'll get right on it," I said into the telephone and then hung up. "Fellas, that was the television station. They called to report that Klinsinger is missing."

"The sludge monsters got him!" Bugs exclaimed just as Sgt. Vinton entered the C.A.P.E.R. room.

"The _what_ got _who?" _Sgt. Vinton asked.

"Oh, Sgt. Vinton," I said, "That was the news station. They called to report Kurt Klinsinger missing."

"And he's missing his own report," Doc added, pointing at the screen.

"He's not missing much, though," Doomsday offered. "It's pretty boring, really."

"How very odd," Sgt. Vinton hummed. "But then, Klinsinger always has struck me as being a bit odd. Well, I suppose I should go out looking for him then."

"We know where he was," I reported. "He was following us around earlier today when we were investigating the pollution at Doris' flower farm near the Mystic Manufacturing plant. He may still be there."

"Or he may have been eaten by the sludge monsters!" Bugs added.

"Say, what's all this about sludge monsters?" Sgt. Vinton asked.

"Bugs believes that the pollution has come to life and is attacking people," Doc explained.

"Oh yes, I think I saw that in a Japanese monster movie once," Sgt. Vinton said, then he placed a firm hand on Bugs' shoulder and spoke to him in a fatherly tone. "Don't worry . . . it's just a guy in a rubber suit."

"You mean like on Scooby Doo?" Doomsday asked.

"I'll go find Klinsinger and then you'll see there are no such thing as monsters," Sgt. Vinton promised Bugs in a condescending manner.

Bugs rolled his eyes, trying to remain calm. But it was clear he didn't like being spoken to as if he were a child.

"I should really get back to my flower farm," Doris said sadly. "My buds need watering."

"Oh, okay," Doomsday said with some disappointment.

"But, Doomsday, surely you were planning to go with them so that you and Doris could show Sgt. Vinton where we last saw Klinsinger?" I suggested.

"Oh, Doomsday, that's a good idea!" Doris agreed.

"Yeah, it is!" Doomsday smiled. "Wow! They're coming to me so easily today!"

"Come on then," Sgt. Vinton said.

"Give us a call on the C.A.P.E.R. band when you find him," I told Doomsday, handing him his radio.

"Okay, P.T.," Doomsday said. "And we'll watch out for those sludge monsters, too!"

After they left, Bugs looked from Doc to me and sighed, "Well, at least _somebody_ believes me!"


	2. Act Two

"How much further do we have to walk?" Sgt. Vinton complained as he followed Doomsday and Doris along the stream behind the flower farm.

"Not too far," Doomsday promised. "We were trying to find out where the pollution was coming from and Mr. Klinsinger was following us."

Sgt. Vinton waved a hand in front of his face. "This smell is horrible! And you say Mr. Mystic had no idea his factory was putting out this . . . this stuff?"

"He was really upset about it," Doris confirmed.

"Well, with a story like this I have a feeling Klinsinger is just getting carried away," Sgt. Vinton sighed, removing his hat to wipe his brow.

"Really?" Doomsday asked, stopping and turning to the superior officer with a startled look. "Then you think he _was_ carried away by sludge monsters?"

Sgt. Vinton shook his head. "Don't you worry," he assured Doomsday in the same tone he had used earlier with Bugs. "We're going to find Klinsinger and you'll see there is no such thing as a sludge monster. Now . . . are we close to the spot where you last saw him?"

They had rounded the bend where they could see the chain link fence crossing the water. "It was right around here," Doomsday said.

"Hmmm," Sgt. Vinton hummed, replacing his hat. "I bet he went through that hole in the fence to get onto the factory grounds. I hope I won't have to slap him with a charge of trespassing!"

"I'm sure Mr. Klinsinger didn't know he was trespassing," Doomsday said quickly. "Can't you just give him a warning instead of slapping him?"

"Yeah, that sounds kind of violent," Doris agreed.

"Isn't that what they call police brutality?" Doomsday asked.

Sgt. Vinton gave them both a long look then shook his head. "Let's just go look for Klinsinger, shall we?"

Sgt. Vinton walked past Doomsday and Doris and continued along the water's edge to the gap in the fence.

"Don't worry," Doomsday assured Doris. "I don't think he would ever really hit Mr. Klinsinger."

"No, he seems like a nice man," Doris agreed. "A little out of shape, but nice."

They were about to follow after Sgt. Vinton when a red-winged blackbird flew past them. It doubled back and landed on a reed close by, chirping loudly.

Doomsday chirped back in a similar fashion and the bird became very animated, chattering excitedly and leaping into the air, flailing its wings before landing back on the reed.

"Well, we certainly appreciate the warning," Doomsday said, and the bird chirped once more and then flew away quickly.

"You talk to birds?" Doris asked with wide-eyed amazement.

"I can talk to all animals," Doomsday explained.

Doris smiled broadly. "You can talk to animals . . . you can talk to flowers . . . Doomsday, is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"I can't lift boulders like Bugs," Doomsday answered. "And I can't sniff out clues like P.T. And I can't formulate complex algorithms like Doc. In fact, I don't even know what that means!"

"Well, I think you're pretty amazing," Doris said sweetly.

"Really?" Doomsday asked, blushing slightly.

"So what did the bird say?" Doris asked.

"Oh! She said that it's not safe here . . . that we should be careful around the factory. That bad things are happening there. But she didn't say exactly what kind," Doomsday reported.

"Maybe we should warn Sgt. Vinton about that," Doris suggested.

"Good idea!" Doomsday agreed.

They turned as Doomsday began to call out, "Sgt. Vinton!" But they were surprised to find the police sergeant was nowhere in sight.

"Where is he?" Doris asked.

"He must have gone through the fence already," Doomsday said.

They walked to the chain link fence and peered through, but while they could see all the way to the culvert, there was no sign of Sgt. Vinton.

"He can't have gone very far, not the way he was huffing," Doris noted.

Doomsday saw something and stepped through the hole in the fence with Doris following close behind. Once on the other side he stooped down and picked up Sgt. Vinton's hat.

"Here's his hat . . . ew, it's all sticky," Doomsday said worriedly.

"Oh, Doomsday, I'm scared!" Doris said, clutching Doomsday's arm. "What if the sludge monsters are really real? What if they got Sgt. Vinton?"

"We'd better call the others and tell them what's happening!" Doomsday realized, reaching for his C.A.P.E.R. band radio.

* * *

Doc was leaning down repeatedly to lift items carefully out of a large cardboard box which James had brought from his house. Bugs and I were watching the elaborate setup of test tubes, vials and beakers taking shape on the desk next to the television set.

"That should just about do it," Doc said as he took the cover off his high-powered C.A.P.E.R. microscope and set it on the desk. He then removed the Petrie dish containing the sample from his breast pocket and placed it next to the microscope.

"Doomsday calling P.T. Come in, P.T.!" Doomsday's voice crackled from my C.A.P.E.R. band radio.

"That didn't take long," I noted as I picked up my radio and pressed the button. "P.T. here. Did you find Klinsinger?"

"No, we didn't," Doomsday reported. "In fact, not only did we not find Mr. Klinsinger, but now we've lost Sgt. Vinton, too!"

"Lost Sgt. Vinton?" I asked with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"He's disappeared!" Doomsday explained. "One minute he was here, the next he was gone. All we could find was his hat. And it's got slime on it."

"The sludge monsters got Sgt. Vinton!" Bugs exclaimed.

"Oh, not that again!" Doc moaned.

"Something strange is definitely going on out there," I said worriedly to Doc and Bugs, then pressed the button on the C.A.P.E.R. band again. "Where are you?"

"We just stepped through the fence around the factory," Doomsday answered.

"Doomsday, take Doris to the factory offices and wait for me there," I ordered. "I'm on my way."

"10-4, P.T.," Doomsday answered.

I clipped my C.A.P.E.R. band radio to my belt and headed for the door. "I'll take my bike and go find out what's going on," I said.

"P.T., please be careful!" Bugs said worriedly. "There's no telling what that horrible, vicious sludge might do!"

"I'll be careful," I promised Bugs, then turned to Doc. "I'll call when I find out what's really happening."

I headed out of the C.A.P.E.R. room and had walked through the front door of the station when Doc caught up with me.

"P.T., are you sure you want to go out there?" Doc asked worriedly as he walked down the stairs beside me.

I stopped in front of the Big Bologna and eyed him with surprise. "Don't tell me _you're_ worried about the sludge monsters now, too?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Doc scoffed as he helped me to unhook the bike from the rack on the front bumper of the vehicle. "I'm thinking about Seymour. I mean . . . can you handle getting that close to the factory again?"

The truth is I really wasn't looking forward to subjecting Seymour to that horrible smell again. But I didn't want Doc to worry. "It won't be pleasant, but I'll be okay," I assured him. "There's probably a very simple and logical explanation for all of this."

"Yeah, like killer sludge," Doc said.

I looked at him with surprise. "You're kidding!"

"Sometimes I try," Doc smiled.

I mounted the bike and gave Doc a worried look. "Can you handle Bugs while you're doing your experiments?"

"Oh sure," Doc said. "I'm anxious to prove to him that there are no such thing as sludge monsters. Besides, what could happen?"

Inside the C.A.P.E.R. room, Bugs was pacing nervously. He knew Klinsinger and now Sgt. Vinton had probably been captured by the sludge monsters . . . but no one would believe him. He wanted desperately to think of a way to prove to us that he wasn't imagining things.

As he paused at the door of the C.A.P.E.R. room he heard a noise behind him. It sounded like glass clinking against glass. He turned and looked at the desk, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Suddenly he realized the Petrie dish was open . . . the upper lid had been pushed off and had slid down to rest against the bottom half. And then he spotted the small sample of slime, now bright blue, oozing across the desk, making its way around the jungle of laboratory equipment.

Bugs ran to the desk and picked up the lid of the Petrie dish, then brought it down quickly over the sample, cutting off its escape. The blob of sludge moved along the inside edge of the dish, looking for a way out as it turned a deep red.

"Doc! P.T.! Get in here!" Bugs called loudly over his shoulder. "The sludge is trying to escape!"

Since Bugs had his head turned, he didn't see that the sludge sample was oozing out through the hairline space between the lid and the desk. It wasn't until it slid onto his hand and then up his sleeve that Bugs realized it was loose.

Bugs let out a cry as he jumped back and swung his arm wildly, knocking over a good portion of Doc's equipment. "Get off me!" he yelled as the ooze made its way up his arm, past his shoulder and across his chest. When it slid underneath his left armpit it tickled and he laughed involuntarily. "Stop it!" he giggled angrily.

Two officers who were sitting in the reception area heard the commotion and leaned over from their desks to look into the C.A.P.E.R. room where they saw Bugs convulsing wildly. "What's with him?" one asked.

"I dunno," the other sighed. "He must have heard 'that word' again."

The officers shrugged and went back to their work.

Bugs ran around the room as the sludge continued to slide around his body before finally creeping up his neck and slipping under his hat. Coming to a stop, Bugs looked upward as he felt the sludge sample settle on the top of his head.

Slowly and carefully, Bugs reached for a nearby broom. "Okay, you little squidge," he said anxiously, "It's okay . . . just stay right there . . . I won't hurt you." Bugs lifted the broom handle with both hands and took aim, then brought it down squarely on his head. He immediately fell backwards onto the floor, having promptly knocked himself out. The sludge, now a bright blue again, crawled out from under his hat and slid across the floor, up the wall and out through the barred window.

About this time Doc entered the room and was shocked to see his equipment scattered and broken around the desk and Bugs laying on the floor. Doc leaned back through the door and addressed the officers at their desks. "Okay . . . which one of you said 'that word' to him?"

"What word?" Bugs mumbled in his semi-conscious state.

The officers shrugged innocently. "It wasn't us," one protested. "He must have said it to himself!"

Doc walked over to Bugs and reached down to pick up the broom which was laying loosely in Bugs' hands. "Bugs! Bugs! Wake up!" Doc shouted.

Bugs opened his eyes and then slowly sat up, rubbing his head. "Ooh . . . what happened?"

"Oddly enough I was about to ask you the very same question," Doc said with frustration. "What did you do to my equipment?" He then saw the empty Petrie dish. "And what happened to the sample?"

Bugs' eyes opened wide as he remembered. "It attacked me!"

"The sample attacked you?" Doc asked skeptically.

Bugs rubbed his head painfully. "Ow, that broom handle hurt!"

Doc looked at the broom in his hand. "The sludge sample hit you with the broom handle?" he asked, eyeing Bugs worriedly.

"No, of course not," Bugs moaned. "I hit _myself_ with the broom handle."

"You hit _yourself_ with the broom handle," Doc stated, eyeing Bugs even more worriedly. "Well, that makes a whole lot more sense."

"I was trying to hit Squidge!" Bugs argued.

Doc looked even more confused. "Squidge?"

"The sample!" Bugs said.

"The sample is named Squidge?" Doc asked incredulously. "Tell me . . . did it introduce itself to you before or after you hit yourself with the broom?"

Bugs was sniffing at himself, realizing he now smelled of the noxious slime. "Ew, I have mini-sludge monster slime all over me," he complained.

Doc spoke in a very calm, relaxed manner. "Bugs . . . maybe you'd better lie down for a while."

"It got away!" Bugs realized, seeing the glistening slime trail leading to the window. "We have to catch it!"

Bugs picked up an unbroken beaker from the desk and ran out the door with the intention of following the slime trail and catching the sample.

Doc shook his head. "I just don't know what gets into him," he sighed.

Doc surveyed the destruction that was formerly his lab equipment, then realized the bottom half of the Petrie dish still had some residue in it. Doc pulled an empty glass slide from a velvet-lined box and then carefully transferred some of the slime from the dish to the slide, pressing a second glass slide on top and clipping it into the tray of his microscope.

Leaning in to press his right eye against the eyepiece, Doc focused the lens, then switched to an even higher magnification, refocusing again. It was with some surprise he saw the cells of the sludge residue moving slightly.

Doc stood up straight, thinking about this. _"Could it be possible?" _he asked himself. He then noticed that there was a line of residue on the floor which led up the wall and out the window. Realizing that maybe Bugs was on to something after all, he hurried from the C.A.P.E.R. room to follow the trail and hopefully catch up with Bugs.

* * *

The sentry shack inside the front gate of Mystic Manufacturing was still empty as I pulled into the driveway on my motorized Convert-a-Bike. This struck me as being odd. But I didn't dwell on it too long. I was quickly being reminded of just how bad the smell was and how hard it was to concentrate with it constantly barraging Seymour.

Doomsday and Doris were standing against the wall of the office building, holding each other, when I pulled up and quickly parked the bike.

"Gosh, P.T., I'm sure glad you're here!" Doomsday said.

"Still no sign of Sgt. Vinton or Klinsinger?" I asked.

"No," Doris said sadly.

"But here's his hat," Doomsday said, handing Sgt. Vinton's hat to me.

I looked at it and could see there was a dried substance splattered on it. "This was the slime?" I asked.

"It was probably left there when the sludge monsters grabbed him," Doris speculated.

"Have you actually _seen_ these sludge monsters?" I asked.

"No," Doomsday admitted. "But we think we've heard them."

"Heard them?" I asked with surprise.

"While we've been standing here, we've been hearing this strange sound," Doris explained.

"What kind of strange sound?" I asked.

Doomsday and Doris looked at each other with confusion. "Well . . . we don't know exactly how to describe it," Doomsday admitted.

"It's not like anything we've ever heard before," Doris agreed.

"Just listen and maybe you'll hear it," Doomsday suggested.

My mind was so preoccupied by the overwhelming stench Seymour was coping with that it was actually hard to try to focus my attention on any other sense. But I closed my eyes and did my best, straining to listen. At first I didn't hear anything.

"There!" Doomsday suddenly said. "Do you hear that?"

I closed my eyes tighter, trying to concentrate. And then I did hear something strange. It was off in the distance and I could see why Doris and Doomsday were having trouble putting it into words. The best I could do myself would be to say it sounded like a low rumbling of dozens of indiscernible voices, almost like a crowd in a movie mumbling, "rhubarb . . . rhubarb . . . rhubarb . . . . "

Then suddenly I thought I caught another sound far off . . . like another group of voices echoing somewhere in the distance. These voices were more distinct, like they were calling actual words but I couldn't make out what they were. But they sounded as if they were in distress.

"We'd better find out exactly what that is!" I said urgently. "It sounds like Klinsinger and Sgt. Vinton could be in trouble!"

We walked down the path towards the water and paused, looking around. But the strange noises had ceased and there was no way of telling which direction they had come from.

"Where were you when Sgt. Vinton disappeared?" I asked.

"We were over there, by the fence," Doris answered.

We scanned the area but there was definitely no one in sight.

"Can't Seymour find them?" Doomsday asked hopefully.

"I don't know," I admitted. "The smell of the sludge is so overwhelming . . . but I suppose I could try."

I lifted my head and braced myself, knowing this would be difficult. "Go, Seymour, go!" I chanted, taking a sniff. The overpowering smell from the sludge was nauseating and literally threatened to knock me off my feet, but I stood firm and struggled to make out even the tiniest hint of either Sgt. Vinton or Klinsinger's scent.

Finally something came to me, but only for a second before I lowered my head and staggered, feeling dizzy. Doomsday and Doris quickly grabbed me to keep me from falling over.

"P.T., are you okay?" Doomsday asked worriedly.

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head to try to regain my equilibrium. "I think I can just barely smell them . . . it's coming from somewhere over there." I pointed to the concrete culvert.

"Let's go then!" Doomsday said anxiously. "P.T., can you make it?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I insisted, although it was far from the truth. "Lead the way."

* * *

Doc kept his eyes to the ground, following the slime trail as it wound its way through the streets of the city, weaving back and forth beneath parked cars, around garbage cans, in and out of businesses and to the park where it had apparently oozed through the children's playground. Doc wondered if the sludge had actually had fun going down the slide.

At the edge of the park Doc finally caught up with Bugs, who was leaning over by a tree, looking around in earnest. He had the beaker in his hand at the ready.

"Any luck?" Doc asked, even though he knew the answer to the question since Bugs was obviously still looking.

Bugs turned to Doc with surprise, then grew defensive. "I'm going to catch this thing and then you'll _have_ to believe me!" he insisted.

"Oh, I believe you," Doc assured him.

"You do?" Bugs asked with surprise, then he looked skeptical. "So why should you believe me now?"

"Well, because when I looked at some of the sludge residue under the microscope there was evidence that it has, indeed, taken on some form of life," Doc explained.

"I knew it!" Bugs said.

"And because the slime trail leading around the city would indicate the sample is traveling of its own volition," Doc added.

"Yeah!" Bugs agreed eagerly.

"And the final piece of convincing evidence is the fact that Squidge is sitting on the rim of your glasses," Doc finished.

"He is?" Bugs exclaimed. He attempted to focus in on the top of his glasses, then lifted the beaker quickly and pressed it against his face to try to cover the sludge.

"I don't think that will work," Doc offered.

Surprisingly, though, the bright blue sludge sample slipped off Bugs' glasses and crawled around the outside of the glass beaker before finally climbing inside to explore. Bugs quickly lowered the container and slapped his hand over the top.

"I got it!" Bugs said excitedly as he watched the sludge's color change from blue to green and then brown. "You won't get away this time!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Doc said as the sludge crawled up and onto the underside of Bugs' fingers and then separated to ooze through the spaces between them.

"Ew!" Bugs cried, as he moved to pull his hand away.

"No, no wait," Doc said, grabbing hold of Bugs' wrist to keep him from moving. "It's okay. If it were highly caustic you would already be suffering from burns."

"But it feels so squishy and it stinks," Bugs complained.

They watched as the sludge finished slipping through Bugs' fingers and then gathered on the back of his hand, turning back to blue and fidgeting slightly but not attempting to slide away.

"Remarkable," Doc said, reaching over and pushing his index finger toward the sludge. It climbed onto Doc's finger and clung tight as Doc lifted it to have a closer look. "As far as I know there's no plausible reason why this stuff would be alive."

The sludge sat on the tip of Doc's finger, bobbing up and down slightly as it changed colors.

"You know, Squidge doesn't seem so scary now," Bugs admitted, poking his finger at the sludge, which stretched from Doc's finger to grab hold of Bugs' and gathered there. "In fact, he's kind of cute."

"It does seem harmless enough," Doc noted. "But then, of course, this is only a small amount."

"Yeah, the sludge around the factory seemed much less friendly," Bugs said.

"The factory!" Doc suddenly realized. "We've got to let P.T. and Doomsday know what they're dealing with! Quick, do you have your C.A.P.E.R. band radio?"

"No, I didn't bring it with me," Bugs answered.

"I left mine back at the C.A.P.E.R. room as well," Doc sighed. "Come on! We've got to get back there and call to warn them!"

* * *

Doomsday, Doris and I were approaching the dark opening of the culvert cautiously. I could see there were lighting fixtures along the walls within, but they seemed strangely muted, barely giving off any radiance at all. Because of this, we couldn't really see very far inside.

"Are we actually going in?" Doris asked Doomsday nervously.

"I don't know," Doomsday admitted. "We don't know what could be in there. What do you think, P.T.?"

I heard Doomsday's question but didn't respond. This is because I had caught the sound of the other voices I had heard earlier. Only now I could tell they were coming from inside the culvert and they were definitely calling for help. On top of this, the horrible smell seemed to be getting worse by the second, and my brain felt completely overwhelmed.

"Doc calling P.T.! Come in, P.T.!" Doc's voice crackled over our C.A.P.E.R. band radios. I could hear it, but my mind was too befuddled to react right away.

"That's Doc calling!" Doomsday said. "P.T., aren't you going to answer it?"

"Oh," I finally said, turning back to Doomsday and Doris and reaching down to unhook my radio from my belt. "P.T. here," I finally answered.

I released the button on the radio to listen as Doc began talking quickly. But even though his voice was loud and clear in my ear, as well as simultaneously coming over Doomsday's radio, it somehow seemed to be fading away. "Listen, Bugs was right! The sludge is alive! We don't know whether or not it's dangerous, but exercise extreme caution!"

"Oh no!" Doris cried, clinging on to Doomsday. "Then there really _are_ sludge monsters! What will we do?"

"Did you read me?" Doc's voice asked over the radios. "I said exercise extreme caution!"

"We heard you," Doomsday said, then realized Doc couldn't hear him since he wasn't using his own radio. He also realized that I wasn't answering. This is because I was staring straight ahead in a catatonic state.

"P.T., are you okay?" Doomsday asked as I continued to stare blankly at them.

"What's wrong with him? Why doesn't he answer?" Doris asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Doomsday admitted nervously. "P.T., say something!"

"Are you there, P.T.?" Doc's voice called again from our radios.

Doomsday was reaching for his radio when he and Doris saw something rise up behind me and, as they watched helplessly, two slimy appendages wrapped around me from behind, pulling me back against a large, black, oozing, undefined body of sludge. The radio dropped from my hand and landed sharply on the walkway.

Doris let out a scream of terror as she backed away. Doomsday, on the other hand, stepped forward angrily. "No! Let him go!" he cried. But the sludge monster was already dragging me back into the culvert.

"Stop!" Doomsday yelled, unsure of what to do.

"Oh! Doomsday!" Doris suddenly cried out.

Doomsday wheeled to see another sludge monster had risen up out of the ooze along the bank and had grabbed Doris.

"Leave her alone!" Doomsday shouted, moving towards her. But suddenly he felt something grasping his ankles. Looking down, he realized another mound of sludge was rising up quickly, holding him fast. The sticky, gooey sludge was impossible to fight against, and the monsters' ever-shifting forms were enormous in size.

Doris and Doomsday continued to struggle and protest as the sludge monsters pulled them into the culvert after me. All the while they could hear Doc over the radios desperately asking someone to answer him.

* * *

Back in the C.A.P.E.R. room, Doc looked at Bugs worriedly. "We've lost contact," he reported. "We'd better get down there!"

They hurried outside to the Big Bologna. As they ran, Bugs removed his hat and held it under his finger where Squidge was still sitting. "Come on, Squidge. Atta boy."

Squidge jumped into Bugs' hat and Bugs placed it back onto his head as he entered the vehicle and climbed behind the steering wheel.

* * *

Doomsday noticed that the same strange, low mumbling noise they had heard outside the factory offices had started again, only it was louder now as it echoed within the cement walls and ceiling of the culvert. The sludge monster's grip, while squishy, was also firm, and struggling only seemed to make him sink further into the creature's mass. The lighting along the walls was vague but as they moved further into the structure the more helpful it seemed to become as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Doc's voice had stopped calling over our C.A.P.E.R. band radios. Doomsday had tried to reach for his only to find that it was buried in the side of the sludge monster that was holding him.

"Doomsday! I'm scared!" Doris cried out suddenly.

"Don't worry!" Doomsday called back. "It's going to be okay!"

They were deep inside the culvert now and Doomsday wondered where the monsters were taking them. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind when they stopped and Doomsday struggled to crane his neck to look around. They were still on the cement walkway but it was slick with slime, as were the walls and light fixtures.

"Oh no!" a nearby voice suddenly cried out. "They got you guys, too?"

Doomsday looked up and realized that Kurt Klinsinger, who had just spoken, was looking down at them from the wall where he was stuck; most of his body was covered with a thick coating of sludge.

"Oh hi, Mr. Klinsinger!" Doomsday offered. Then he realized Sgt. Vinton was similarly affixed to the wall to Klinsinger's right. "And Sgt. Vinton! We were looking for you guys!"

"Well, looks like you found us," Sgt. Vinton sighed sadly.

"Mr. Mystic!" Doris exclaimed, having spotted the factory owner attached to the wall to Klinsinger's left. "You, too?"

"And me!" a small, scared voice stated to Mr. Mystic's right and Klinsinger's left. They could barely see the man through the mass of sludge covering him but they recognized him as the elderly security guard.

The sludge monster holding me pulled me over towards Sgt. Vinton and lifted me up, pressing my back into the thick layer of slime on the wall. I continued to be immobile and unresponsive as the creature proceeded to coat my body with sludge.

"I can't believe they captured _you,_ P.T.!" Sgt. Vinton exclaimed. "Couldn't you smell them coming?" When I didn't respond, he called to Doomsday, "Say, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know!" Doomsday answered as the sludge monsters holding him and Doris pulled them to the wall beside Mr. Mystic. "He just went blank!"

"Maybe he's scared stiff," Klinsinger suggested.

"P.T. doesn't get scared like that!" Doomsday reminded them, not able to hide the worry in his voice. "Something's wrong with him!"

"Let me go!" Doris cried out as the sludge monster lifted her and stuck her to the wall like the others.

Doomsday felt himself being picked up as well and pushed back into the sludge beside Doris. They were helpless as the monsters started coating them liberally with sludge.

"Eww!" Doris moaned. "It smells so horrible!"

"And it's so sticky!" Doomsday added. "I can't pull free!"

"It only gets stickier and harder to move as time goes on," Sgt. Vinton explained.

"What do they want with us?" Doris cried.

"We have no idea," Mr. Mystic sighed.

"Oh Doomsday!" Doris said with a quivering voice as she tried to be brave. "I'm so afraid. But I just know you're going to think of a way out of this for all of us!"

"_Doomsday?" _Sgt. Vinton and Klinsinger cried.

"Of course!" Doris said defensively. "He's the leader, after all!"

"_Doomsday?" _Sgt. Vinton and Klinsinger repeated.

"Of course!" Doris insisted.

"Um, Doris . . . there's something I have to tell you," Doomsday said sadly as the sludge monsters continued to cover them.

"What is it, Doomsday?" Doris asked.

"Well, you see . . . I'm not really the leader of C.A.P.E.R.," Doomsday admitted with embarrassment.

"What do you mean?" Doris asked, looking confused.

"The others were just trying to make me look good," Doomsday explained. "P.T.'s usually the leader. And sometimes Doc. Even Bugs takes charge once in a while. But I don't."

As the sludge monsters finished and pulled away from them, Doris lowered her eyes and grew very quiet.

"I'm really sorry," Doomsday offered. "I didn't mean to lie. I would never want to do that to you."

Doris looked over at Doomsday and smiled. "Oh, Doomsday, I don't care if you're a leader or not. I like you just the way you are."

"You do?" Doomsday asked, then he looked down at himself as he hung on the wall next to her. "Even covered with sludge?"

Doris giggled. "Well, I can't hold_ that_ against you! Look at _me!"_

They both laughed for a moment. Then Doris looked at Doomsday seriously. "Actually, if you ask me, they're missing out by not having you as the leader."

"Oh, I don't have the brains or brawn or brightness to be a leader," Doomsday sighed.

"But you have heart," Doris pointed out. "And I have confidence in you. You should have confidence in yourself."

Kurt Klinsinger let out a scoffing laugh. "The only way _he_ could get us out of this is if he could _eat _his way out!" he remarked.

"Mr. Klinsinger, don't_ you_ have any ideas how we can get out of this?" Doomsday asked sincerely. "After all, you are an inept reporter."

"In_-depth_ reporter!" Klinsinger corrected him sharply.

"I think he had it right the first time," Sgt. Vinton remarked.

"Well?" Doris asked.

"Of course I have a plan for getting us out of here!" Klinsinger insisted.

"Oh good!" Doomsday smiled. "What is it?"

Klinsinger took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then cried out loudly, _"Mommy!!!!!"_

"Oh yes, that's very effective," Mr. Mystic sighed, rolling his eyes. "You've been screaming that for the past hour or more!"

"Well, what about you, Sgt. Vinton?" Doomsday asked hopefully. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I've been trying to think of a way out of this since I've been stuck up here," Sgt. Vinton said.

"And . . . ?" Doris asked.

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping you Kids would come along and save us!" Sgt. Vinton admitted.

"Northeast Southweston's finest," Klinsinger remarked sarcastically.

"But that's half shot now," Sgt. Vinton noted worriedly.

"That's right!" Doomsday realized. "Only _half_ of us have been captured! Doc and Bugs are probably on their way over here right now! I'm sure they'll save us!"

* * *

As Bugs pulled the Big Bologna into the driveway of Mystic Manufacturing, he noticed the security guard still wasn't at his post. "I'm telling you, the sludge monsters got the old man!" Bugs said with a shake of his head.

"I'm inclined to believe you this time," Doc said.

Bugs parked near the offices and they climbed out of the vehicle, looking around.

"I wonder where they were when we talked to them," Doc thought aloud.

"I don't know. But we'd better find them, and quickly!" Bugs urged.

"I don't know if it will go any good but . . . ," Doc sighed as he lifted his C.A.P.E.R. Band radio and pulled out the antenna. He raised it to his mouth and pressed the button. "Doc calling Doomsday or P.T. If you can hear me, answer please!"

Doc wasn't surprise when there was no response. But he and Bugs _were_ surprised when they both heard Doc's voice echoing back from somewhere not too far away.

"It came from over there," Bugs pointed towards the water.

They hurried down the path to the water's edge as Doc continued to talk into the radio. "Testing, one, two, three . . . testing, one, two, three . . . "

They followed the sound of Doc's echoing voice until they reached the mouth of the culvert where they found my C.A.P.E.R. band radio, lying on the walkway, covered with slime. Bugs reached down to pick it up by the antenna with his fingers, making a face of disgust.

"It looks like they got P.T.," Doc sighed. "That means they've probably captured Doomsday and Doris as well."

"Oh no!" Bugs gasped in horror. "But where did they take them?"

"Listen!" Doc urged. They stood quietly and could hear a strange, low rumbling sound, but over top of it they heard several voices apparently calling for help. "It sounds like they're inside the culvert," Doc said.

"There's no way of knowing what kind of terrifying and monstrous tortures those sludge monsters are putting them through!" Bugs said dramatically.

"Well, there is _one_ way," Doc said.

"What's that?" Bugs asked.

Doc stepped aside and motioned for Bugs to enter the culvert.

"You want _me _to go in _there?"_ Bugs asked in disbelief.

"How else are we supposed to find them?" Doc asked.

"Walk right into the sludge monsters' lair?" Bugs asked. "That's the first mistake all the scientists make in every horror movie I've ever seen!"

"Yeah, well, fortunately, this isn't a movie," Doc said, nudging Bugs to toward the culvert. "Come on!"

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Why do _I_ have to go into the culvert?" Bugs asked.

"Because you've got the strength and the speed, so naturally you have a better chance of not being caught!" Doc explained.

"And what are you going to be doing while I'm in there facing heaven knows what?" Bugs asked.

"I'm going to be out here thinking of a way to defeat the sludge monsters," Doc answered.

"Can't you come along with me and think at the same time?" Bugs asked. "Or doesn't your brain work in the dark?"

"Come on, enough stalling!" Doc sighed, pushing Bugs towards the opening. "Time and tide wait for no man."

"Yeah well, fools rush in where angels fear to tread!" Bugs pointed out, bracing himself against the edge of the cement wall.

"Actions speak louder than words," Doc countered, pushing harder.

"Discretion is the better part of valor!" Bugs cried, clinging tenaciously to the edge of the opening.

"And procrastination is the thief of time," Doc insisted, trying to pry Bugs' fingers off the wall.

"Then why don't we go looking for this time thief, Procrastination, instead?" Bugs asked, refusing to let go. "That sounds like a much more important case!"

"Fine words butter no parsnips," Doc insisted.

"Oh, now you're just trying to confuse me!" Bugs cried in frustration. "I'm not going in there and nothing you say or do will make me!"

Suddenly Squidge crept out from under Bugs' hat and oozed onto his glasses, then down onto the tip of his nose before dropping off to the ground. As they watched, the small blob of sludge turned from brown to black before slipping quickly into the culvert.

"Hey, Squidge! Wait! Where are you going?" Bugs called before chasing after it into the darkness.

"Oh great," Doc sighed sarcastically. "He won't listen to me but he'll follow a gelatinous splotch of goo. It's nice to know he has his priorities straight."

Unfortunately for Doc, he wasn't paying attention to the sludge which was quickly rising up behind him.

Bugs continued to chase Squidge down the slippery walkway of the culvert but he realized pretty quickly it was getting too dark and he soon lost sight of the sample. "Squidge . . . where are you?" Bugs called.

"Who is Squidge?" Klinsinger asked.

"Did you get a dog while we were gone?" Doomsday asked in a hurt voice.

Bugs looked up and in the dim light he could see the line of people stuck to the wall. "This is no time to be hanging around!" he scolded. "The sludge monsters could be anywhere!"

"Or they could be right here," Doc said from behind him.

Bugs turned and saw Doc being held firmly by one of the sludge monsters as others began rising up out of the ooze around them.

"Oh no, they've got Doc!" Sgt. Vinton gasped. "Now we're three-quarters shot!"

"Bugs, watch out!" Doomsday called out a warning as he saw the sludge monsters oozing toward him.

"Bugs, you have to get out of here!" Doc shouted.

"How?" Bugs cried. The sludge monsters were blocking the walkway in the direction he had come. The water running through the culvert was slick with ooze, much of which was rising up and creeping towards him. The only option left was to go further into the culvert, but it curved under the factory and Bugs couldn't see where it led.

"There's a door that leads into the factory further down!" Mr. Mystic offered. "But it's locked. And I don't think I can get the key out of my pocket."

"A locked door is no problem for Bugs," Doc explained as the sludge monster holding him dragged him to the wall next to me. "Go on!"

"But . . . what about you guys?" Bugs hesitated. Even though he was terrified he hated the thought of leaving us in such danger.

"You can't help us if you're caught as well!" Doc pointed out as the sludge monster pressed him back against the wall beside me. "Now hurry! Go!"

Bugs realized that Doc was right and turned to run further into the culvert. But a mound of sludge was creeping up onto the walkway, blocking his path.

"I'll bring help!" Bugs promised, and he looked down at his hands, which he could barely see in the dim light, then shifted into super speed. He raced toward the rising sludge and then took a leap, somersaulting over it. The ooze stretched up in an attempt to snatch him in midair but Bugs was too fast for it. He landed on his feet on the walkway beyond and slid. For a moment he thought he would slip into the sludgy water, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet and then he started running in fast speed.

Doc cringed as the sludge monster started coating him with slime. "Watch the suit!" he warned, which was a rather useless warning. When the sludge monster finished, Doc realized his left arm wasn't as heavily covered and he struggled to pull it free, shaking off as much of the sludge as he could while smirking with disgust.

"I sure hope Bugs can help us," Sgt. Vinton sighed.

"Well, hopefully he'll be able to find someone at the factory who can help," Doc noted.

"I'm afraid not," Mr. Mystic sighed. "You see, the factory is completely automated."

"You mean there's no one else working there?" Doc asked with surprise.

"Not on a full time basis, except for Charlie here," Mr. Mystic sighed, indicating the elderly security guard. "And definitely not today."

"Don't worry," Doc said, flexing his left arm to keep it free from the sticky sludge. "Bugs won't let us down."

"Well, I hope he _will_ let us down!" Klinsinger complained. "I'm tired of being stuck on the wall like a wad of foul-smelling chewing gum."


	3. Act Three

Bugs had found the door leading to the factory, which was indeed locked. He stopped and grabbed hold of the handle, pulling it with all his strength . . . which resulted in the knob coming off in his hand.

"That's not good," Bugs sighed as he looked to see the sludge was oozing down the walkway towards him. Bugs fumbled with the doorknob, trying to fit it back into the door. When this didn't work, he became more desperate and pounded on the door a few times. But the sludge was oozing closer and time was running out.

Finally in desperation, Bugs made a fist and punched the concrete wall beside the door. His hand and arm went through the thick wall and he fumbled, feeling for the doorknob on the other side. He could barely reach it but at the last possible second his fingers closed around the knob and he turned it, opening the door. He quickly pulled his arm out and hurried through the door, shutting it tightly behind him.

Bugs leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief at his narrow escape. A moment later he felt something tapping his shoulder. Looking to his right, he reacted just in time by leaping away from the door as the sludge, which had oozed through the hole he had made in the wall, covered the spot where he'd been standing.

Bugs scrambled quickly up a metal staircase which led to a catwalk above the huge metal containers which were built to contain the factory's industrial waste in this holding area. At the top of the staircase Bugs paused, looking down upon the scene. He could see the tanks were all leaking sludge, which was creeping into the drains along the floor and undoubtedly spilling out into the culvert. The sludge monster which had come through the wall was rolling around happily in the raw crud as happily as a pig wallowing in mud and seemed to have forgotten about chasing Bugs for the time being.

Bugs hurried through the door and into the factory, pausing only to close the door behind him. "Hey, I need help!" he called, raising his voice to be heard above the loud machinery which was in full operation. He ventured forth, maneuvering around the Rube Goldberg-style maze of machines which were mindlessly producing large quantities of mood rocks. "Is anybody here?" Bugs called. But there was no answer and no one was in sight.

"_The sludge monsters couldn't have captured _all_ the workers!"_ Bugs thought to himself as he continued to make his way through the complex. When he reached the other side of the large area he found another door which he passed through.

Running down a long corridor, he checked the windows along the side which offered views of various parts of the main factory floor. But everywhere he looked he only saw machines busily running and no sign of any people.

Finally he reached the end of the corridor and found an area which didn't contain any machinery except for two conveyer belts running perpendicular to one another. It was a packing room and the mood rocks were coming in on the one conveyer belt from the factory while the other, slower belt slowly rolled cardboard boxes underneath for the rocks to drop into. But this didn't interest Bugs as much as the telephone he saw hanging on the wall on the other side of the room.

He lunged for the receiver and dialed zero frantically. "Operator! Operator! Get me the police! The National Guard! Roto-Rooter! Anybody!"

There was no answer, and then Bugs realized he wasn't even getting a dial tone. "The phones are dead," he realized, slowly hanging up. "But if I drive into town to get help it might be too late! What am I going to do?"

His mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan. Then he saw a line of red canisters along the wall. "That's it!" he exclaimed, and with renewed energy he started making the necessary preparations to pull off a daring rescue.

* * *

Meanwhile, back inside the culvert, everyone was quiet, watching as the sludge monsters congregated nearby, rising and falling from the ooze as they continued to make the same strange grumbling sound amongst themselves.

After several moments of anxious waiting, Doomsday suddenly remembered. "Doc!" he called out. "Something's wrong with P.T.! We were about to enter the culvert when he just went blank!"

"Yeah, he's been like that the whole time," Sgt. Vinton confirmed.

Doc struggled to turn his head to look at me. He could immediately see the others were correct, as I was still staring straight ahead and not moving.

"I was afraid of that," Doc sighed. "He's suffering from olfactory sensory overload."

"Oh no!" Doris cried. "How horrible!"

"Terrible!" Doomsday agreed. "Is it contagious?"

"It just means his brain can't process the overriding stench that Seymour is smelling," Doc explained.

"The smell _is_ disgusting," Mr. Mystic agreed.

"Yeah, well, imagine if it were a hundred times stronger!" Doc noted.

"Poor P.T.," Doomsday sighed.

Doc reached for his front jacket pocket with his free arm. "Fortunately, I happen to have my C.A.P.E.R. Olfactory Sensory Overload Reverser Device with me, if I can get it out of my pocket. Ah, there we go."

The others looked over to try to make out the small item Doc had pulled from his pocket in the dim light. "That looks like a clothespin," Sgt. Vinton remarked.

"Yeah," the others nodded in agreement.

Doc reached over and carefully clipped it onto Seymour. "Well, now it's a C.A.P.E.R. Olfactory Sensory Overload Reverser Device."

As I came to I didn't know what was going on. The last thing I remembered was listening to Doc warning us over the C.A.P.E.R. band about the sludge being alive. Now my surroundings were dark and I found that I couldn't move. "What's happening?" I asked, startled that my voice sounded so strange. "Why does my voice sound so funny?" I then realized something was on Seymour and I crossed my eyes, trying to see what it was. "Why is there a clothespin on Seymour?"

"We thought it was a clothespin, too!" Doomsday offered. "But actually it's a . . . " He struggled to remember the name.

"A C.A.P.E.R. Olfactory Sensory Overload Reverser Device," Doris filled in, thinking it through carefully.

"Oh," I said, not fully understanding.

"A very handy thing to have around," Doc stated. "You can also use it to hang socks for drying."

"You're kidding!" Klinsinger said with waning patience.

"Sometimes I try," Doc smiled.

I struggled against the sticky yet hardening sludge and realized pretty quickly there was no way to pull free. Realizing Doc was to my right, I asked, "Who else has been captured?"

"Pretty much everyone," Sgt. Vinton sighed.

"Except Bugs," Doomsday reported. "We think he got away."

"Is everyone okay?" I asked worriedly.

"Oh yes, of course!" Klinsinger replied sarcastically. "Just peachy! I'm sure this noxious sludge is doing wonders for our complexions."

"Well, it certainly isn't doing wonders for your disposition," Sgt. Vinton scoffed.

"This is no time to argue," I urged. "Bugs may or may not be able to help us, so we should work together to find a way out of this." There was a long moment when no one responded. "Well?" I finally asked.

"I'm sorry, P.T., but it's really hard to take you seriously with your voice sounding like that," Sgt. Vinton explained.

"P.T.'s right," Doc insisted. "If we don't work together we may never escape."

"Never escape!" Klinsinger cried dramatically. "Oh the tragedy of it all! 'Ace reporter's career cut tragically short! Film at eleven!' The biggest story to hit town in years and I won't be here to cover it!"

"It's all my fault," Mr. Mystic sighed. "I thought I had taken all of the necessary precautions to keep the factory clean and safe. And now I've potentially set loose a plague upon the city."

"Don't blame yourself, sir," Charlie said quietly. "It isn't your fault. It's mine."

"I appreciate your loyalty, Charlie," Mr. Mystic offered. "But clearly the safeguards I put in place to contain the waste wasn't enough. The blame is entirely my own."

"No . . . no," Charlie almost cried. "It was my fault. I never should have let it go this far."

"But you couldn't even smell the sludge," I pointed out. "How could you have known?"

The old man looked up at with a resigned expression. "Because . . . because I'm the one who caused the leaks in the first place."

"_What?" _we all gasped.

"I damaged the tanks so the waste by-product would spill out slowly and pollute the area," Charlie admitted sadly.

"But why?" Mr. Mystic asked in a hurt tone. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I was angry!" Charlie cried out. "I was angry and upset and . . . and I wanted to sabotage your business. I didn't want you to succeed . . . when my family hadn't."

"I don't understand," Mr. Mystic said.

"This factory had been in my family for generations," Charlie explained. "We made our first fortunes manufacturing those little plastic houses for Monopoly."

"Oh, I love that game!" Doomsday said, then he told Doris, "I like to be the Scotty dog."

"And I like to be the wheelbarrow," Doris told Doomsday.

"In the beginning, the houses were made of wood, but we perfected a plastic version which was more economical," Charlie continued. "When our company landed that contract our fortunes were made."

"So what happened?" Doc asked.

"We eventually lost the Monopoly contract," Charlie sighed. "Oh, there were other successes. We made the little plastic hats for Mr. Potato Head . . . the plastic pyramids that float inside Magic 8 Balls and give you the answers. We even made the front and back ends of Slinky Dogs and Slinky Trains for a while."

"That's quite an impressive history," I nodded.

"But then we hit a slow period and we weren't getting as much work," Charlie sighed. "We lost a lot of money and eventually the factory. After a while, no one seemed to even remember Marek Manufacturing. And Northeast Southweston had forgotten that we helped build this town."

"That's so sad," Doomsday sympathized.

"I saved every dime I could in the hope of one day buying back the plant and restoring it to its past glory for the sake of history," Charlie explained. "And I had just saved enough when it came back on the market. And then . . . then I was outbid! By _you!"_

"So you decided to sabotage my business?" Mr. Mystic cried.

"And pollute the area at the same time? That's horrible!" Klinsinger stated.

"And highly illegal," Sgt. Vinton added. "You do realize you're making a confession in the presence of the law?"

"I know!" Charlie assured him. "And I know what I did was wrong. But I had no idea . . . I never could have imagined . . . . "

"Unforeseen consequences are often the worst," Doc pointed out.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone!" Charlie insisted.

"But by setting out to ruin his business you were hurting Mr. Mystic," I said. "And after he was nice enough to hire you and trust you to guard his factory."

"Not to mention the fact that we're all probably going to be devoured by sludge monsters!" Klinsinger added angrily. "This is all_ your _fault!"

"You acted in a completely irresponsible manner!" Sgt. Vinton added.

"I know! I know! And I'm sorry!" Charlie cried, his voice shaking with sobs.

"This isn't solving anything," Doc said adamantly. "We need to focus on the situation at hand."

"That's right," I agreed. "Accepting or placing blame isn't going to help us now."

There was a long space of silence where no one said anything.

"I'd fire him if I were you," Klinsinger told Mr. Mystic curtly.

"Please!" I cried. "Can we all just drop it for now? What's done is done!"

"And we're done for!" Klinsinger insisted.

"We don't know that!" I countered.

"We don't even know what the sludge monsters want!" Doomsday agreed. "Maybe they're just lonely!"

"And _that's_ why they want us to stick around?" Doc asked.

"Doc, can you think of any way we can get loose from this stuff?" I asked.

Doc thought for a few moments. "I don't suppose anyone happens to have a large quantity of industrial strength detergent on their person?" he finally asked.

"I guess we'll just have to hope that Bugs can find some way to help us," I sighed.

No sooner had I spoken when Bugs' voice responded, echoing down the concrete tunnel from somewhere nearby. "Hope no more! I'm on my way to save the day!"

We craned to look as the silhouette of Bugs approached from the opening of the culvert leading outside. Apparently he had gone through the factory and come around the outside for his brazen approach.

"We're saved!" Doris and Klinsinger both stated at the same time (and with the same girly inflection, I might add.)

But we weren't the only ones to take notice. The sludge monsters began rising, some melding into each other as they bobbed in the water. I had the impression that if they had eyes they would have been watching Bugs intently.

"Did you bring help?" Doc asked hopefully.

"I don't need help!" Bugs assured us as he approached, carrying several canisters under his arms. "I can handle these sludge monsters single-handedly!"

"What are you going to do?" Doomsday asked.

Bugs dropped the canisters on the walkway at his feet and picked one up, pulling a short hose loose from its side. Several mounds of sludge had joined into one larger sludge monster and began to slink towards him.

"I saw this in 'The Blob'!" Bugs explained, turning his back to us as he faced the approaching mound of sludge. "All I have to do is blast these things with these fire extinguishers, and they'll freeze solid!"

"Um, Bugs . . . . " Doc tried to interrupt.

"They'll never know what hit them!" Bugs said eagerly, allowing the growing mass of sludge to get closer.

"Uh, Bugs . . . . " Doc tried again.

"They'll be sludgesicles!" Bugs continued.

"_Bugs!" _Doc and I both shouted, trying to get his attention.

The sludge was dangerously close to Bugs when he finally pressed the handle on the fire extinguisher. A small spray of water shot from the hose and squirted the sludge. The sludge stopped and seemed confused, then became visibly agitated as it pulsated quickly.

"Why isn't this working?" Bugs asked with frustration, shaking the fire extinguisher.

"Because that's the wrong kind of extinguisher," Doc explained. "They used CO2 extinguishers in the movie. That's an air-pressurized water extinguisher."

"All the ones you brought with you are water extinguishers," I added.

"Really?" Bugs asked with surprise, turning the extinguisher on its side and squinting at the tiny print written there. He then sighed with frustration. "These things never happen to Steve McQueen!"

I turned to Doc and said, "If we get out of this, remind me to schedule a refresher course with the Fire Marshall on extinguishers."

"Bugs, look out!" Doomsday cried.

Bugs saw the sludge rising up above him. "Well, it won't matter what kind of extinguisher it is when I do this!" he shouted, and he leapt up, swinging the extinguisher over his head and bringing it down quickly. The canister sliced through the sludge clear to the ground, cutting the creature completely in two.

This brief moment of triumph was short-lived as both sides of the sludge monster came down quickly to rejoin, swallowing Bugs whole.

"_Bugs!" _we all gasped in horror.

The sludge moved to the wall and as we watched it spat Bugs out, leaving him stuck beside Doc and already generously coated in slime.

"_Eeewww!"_ we all groaned sympathetically.

Bugs tried to shake his head and coughed, sputtering and spitting out slime as it dripped down his face. He then let out a long moan of disgust. "Oh, this is gross!" he moaned.

"Why on earth didn't you call for help from the factory?" Doc asked.

"I tried!" Bugs insisted, struggling to see through the slime-covered lenses of his glasses. "But the phones weren't working!"

"I noticed we've been having trouble with the phones lately," Mr. Mystic reported.

"But you're less than a mile from the telephone company's switching station!" I pointed out.

"I know," Mr. Mystic agreed. "I tried calling the phone company to get it fixed but . . . . "

"The phones weren't working," we all sighed simultaneously.

"How did you know?" Mr. Mystic asked.

"That was probably more of your nasty sabotage, I suppose?" Klinsinger asked Charlie.

"I never touched the phones!" Charlie insisted. "And the phone line from the guard shack to the factory is working just fine!"

"Um, fellas . . . don't look now, but I think the sludge is up to something," I said nervously.

We looked as the sludge swirled and formed into several different mounds in the water, twisting and turning as the low grumbling sound grew louder.

"What are they going to do with us?" Doris asked nervously.

"I think we're about to find out!" Doc observed as the nine separate mounds of slick, black ooze slowly started slinking towards us purposefully.

"This can't be happening!" Klinsinger cried as panic set in. "I'm too young to die!"

"If I have to die, does it have to be while I'm listening to you sniveling?" Sgt. Vinton complained.

"I'm so sorry I tried to ruin your business, Mr. Mystic," Charlie cried.

"I wish you had just come to me and told me your story," Mr. Mystic sighed sadly. "Maybe we could have worked together somehow."

"I'm really sorry I didn't do more to protect you," Doomsday told Doris.

"Oh Doomsday, don't blame yourself," Doris insisted. "You were all just trying to help me. You couldn't have known this would happen."

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Bugs," Doc offered sincerely.

"I'm sorry you didn't believe me, too!" Bugs replied nervously.

The sludge monsters slipped up onto the walkway and each mound rose up, taking a position in front of each one of us. The low grumbling continued and at this point it sounded more like an actual language, although the cacophony of them all making different noises at the same time made it impossible to decipher anything clearly. I felt a shiver run down my spine as a gaping maw opened in the one in front of me directly in front of my face. Were they really going to devour us alive? As it pressed closer I shut my eyes, not wanting to watch.

"So anyway . . . I said, 'Marge, Bertha Finkelstein has no room to talk, the way her husband steps out on her! And don't think the whole town don't know it!'"

I thought I had lost my mind. But I had heard the woman's voice speaking quite distinctly and not more than an inch from my ear. I opened my eyes and saw that indeed, the voice had come from the sludge monster; its "mouth"was moving in sync with the words.

The voice changed to another, higher pitched voice and the monster said, "And I got it straight from the horse's mouth! Millie Mendelson's platinum hair? Straight out of a bottle! The little hussy."

I looked over at the others and realized the mounds of sludge in front of them were spewing out similarly distasteful rumors. I could see that how, from a distance, this variety of voices would sound like nothing more than a muted crowd sound.

"What is going on?" Bugs cried out in disbelief. "Are you all hearing this, too?"

"Most distinctly," Doc confirmed.

"And did you hear about Sam Wyman?" the monster in front of Doomsday asked. "He was seen coming out of Mickey's Tavern at 2 o'clock in the morning, sloshed out of his mind!"

"That's not a very nice thing to say at all!" Doomsday protested.

"If you can't think of anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," Doris scolded.

Klinsinger was listening intently to the sludge monster in front of him. "And they say that Fred Sanderson's business is going bust and he'll be on the street within the month!" the sludge relayed.

"Ooh, you don't say!" Klinsinger said excitedly. When the sludge monster didn't continue, he said, "Tell me more!"

"Hey, I recognize these voices!" Sgt. Vinton said. "They're all residents of Northeast Southweston."

"Oh no!" Doomsday gasped. "You mean the sludge monster have eaten all those people?"

"I don't believe anyone's been eaten," Doc assured us.

"So then, I said . . . I said, 'Blanche, you can't keep liver in the cupboard! You'll get ptomaine poisoning like that!'" the sludge monster in front of Bugs was saying.

"Oh please, make it stop!" Bugs cried. "I can't take any more!"

Suddenly Bugs felt something oozing up his cheek and he let out a cry of horror. Then he saw Squidge settle on the top of his glasses, looking miserable and shivering as it cringed there, solid black.

"Squidge!" Bugs exclaimed. "There you are! Aw, poor thing. Don't be scared. Everything will be okay. Don't listen to the nasty things all those rude sludge monsters have to say!"

Squidge slowly started turning blue and wiggled happily.

Doc was observing this and suddenly said, "That's it! I think I know what's happening!"

"Well, please explain, Doc!" I begged.

"This is just a theory, but I think it's a viable one," Doc began. "You see, the phone company's switching station is less than a mile away. Chances are the phone lines for the town run under the land here. So when the toxic waste was released into the area, it gradually corroded the phone lines just enough to release a very slight electrical charge . . . . "

"Which is what brought the sludge to life!" I deduced.

"Precisely!" Doc nodded. "And not only did the sludge absorb the electrical charge, but it absorbed all the incessant gossip coming through the phone lines as well!"

"How sad," Doomsday sighed. "After all, gossip is just another form of pollution."

"Doomsday! That's very profound!" Doc commented with surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Doomsday said. "I didn't know I was saying any bad words."

"Not profane," I explained. "Profound."

"Doomsday was right," Doc said.

"He was? You mean he _did_ say a bad word?" Doris asked.

"I must have missed it," Bugs commented.

"Not about that!" Doc sighed. "What he said earlier, about the sludge monsters being lonely. They have all this gossip inside them and no one to repeat it to. They just wanted someone to talk to!"

"But all this negative gossip is so depressing," I pointed out.

"Exactly," Doc agreed. "Don't forget, the sludge is made up of by-product from mood rock materials. Their color reflects their mood. They're black because they're miserable. All they ever hear is people saying negative things about other people."

"Aw, that's really a shame!" Doomsday sighed. "Then they need to hear something nice for a change!"

Doomsday looked at his sludge monster and said, "You know, Sam Wyman is actually a very nice man! Did you know he donated money to the local animal shelter? And he adopted two dogs from there as well!"

The sludge monster in front of Doomsday seemed to relax slightly and its color changed from black to a muddy red.

"It's working!" Doc realized. "Everyone, think of nice things to say about people!"

We all started telling the sludge monsters various good things about the people they had been gossiping about and each other, which made the monsters change into a wide variety of colors and sway happily.

"Fred Sanderson always buys lots of flowers from my roadside stand for his wife whenever he comes back into town from a road trip!" Doris explained to her sludge monster.

"Millie Mendelson donates her time to working with children with learning disabilities and tutors grade school students as well," I informed the sludge monster in front of me.

"Bertha Finkelstein always compliments my wife's goulash at the community pot luck dinners," Sgt. Vinton told the sludge monster in front of him.

All the sludge monsters were now various shades of blue, except for the one in front of Klinsinger, which was still black. We then realized he hadn't said anything at all.

"Can't you say something nice just for once?" I asked.

"Good news isn't my business," Klinsinger explained.

"But surely you must be able to come up with something nice to say about _someone," _Doomsday insisted.

Klinsinger thought for a moment, then offered, "Kurt Klinsinger is one of the most informative and insightful news broadcasters in the western United States!"

"Oh, very generous!" Sgt. Vinton rolled his eyes.

"And his mom is one of the most wonderful women on the face of the earth!" he added.

"And it took a lot for Klinsinger to come up with that!" I added. "So he really is trying hard to help!"

The sludge monster in front of Klinsinger turned brown, but the other sludge monsters leaned closer and twirled around it, melding and unmelding with it until it also was blue.

"See?" Doomsday asked. "A kind word is never wasted!"

"I _knew_ you were smart!" Doris smiled at Doomsday.

"It's good that the sludge monsters are happy now," I agreed. "But that doesn't solve our immediate problem. How do we get down from here?"

"Bugs, can you pull free?" Doc asked.

Bugs struggled for a moment. "Sorry, Doc. I'm stuck fast. And my hands are covered with so much sludge that I can't see them to summon my super strength."

Doc looked at me and I eyed him with the same, resigned look. "We don't have much choice, do we?" Doc asked.

"I'm afraid not," I said. "We're going to have to say 'that word.'"

"What word?" Bugs asked.

"Oh no, not that word again!" Klinsinger moaned.

"What word?" Bugs asked again.

"We're really sorry to have to do this to you, Bugs," I offered sincerely.

"_What _word?" Bugs cried.

Doc reached over with his free arm and poked at Squidge, who was still sitting on Bugs' glasses, until the sludge clung to Doc's finger. "Come on, Squidge. You don't want to be so close to Bugs when he hears 'the word.'"

"_What word?" _Bugs yelled.

"Oh, would you just hurry up and say 'banana' already?" Klinsinger moaned.

"Ba . . . na . . . . NA . . . NA . . . . !" Bugs started screaming, convulsing wildly within his slimy encasing. "BA . . . ba . . . BA . . . NA . . . na . . . . na . . . . NA!!!!"

Suddenly Bugs broke free from the wall, sending slime flying in all directions. He started running around, scaring even the sludge monsters who turned brown and scurried back into the water.

We watched as Bugs continued to rant and rave a few more moments then suddenly he stopped, looking around with confusion. "What's happening?" he asked.

"Not much," we answered.

"Hey, how did I get loose?" Bugs asked, realizing he was free.

"It's a long story," I said. "Can you help us to get down?"

"I can try," Bugs said, trying to figure out how to proceed. He decided to begin by grabbing Doc's arm and pulling until Doc finally managed to wriggle free from the slime and step down. Before they did this, Doc had replaced Squidge on Bugs' glasses, which made Squidge happy.

Doc suggested they use the water extinguishers to soften the slime holding the rest of us, so they worked together, eventually managing to dilute the slime enough where we could pull our hands free and they could then pull us off the wall. This way they helped free Doris, then Charlie, Sgt. Vinton, Klinsinger and Mr. Mystic, and finally Doomsday and myself.

As Mr. Mystic and Charlie stood beside each other on the walkway, Mr. Mystic wiped the excess slime from his sleeves.

"I really am sorry about all of the trouble I've caused," Charlie offered again. "Honestly, I feel terrible about what I've done. I don't blame you if you want to press charges against me."

"Right now I'm just so happy to be alive, nothing could be further from my mind," Mr. Mystic assured him. "But seriously, why didn't you just come to me and tell me the history of this place? I find it fascinating!"

"You do?" Charlie asked with surprise.

"Why yes!" Mr. Mystic assured him. "I think we should always respect the history of our industry! And I would be happy to convert part of the factory into a museum honoring the Marek family!"

"Really?" Charlie asked, tears coming to his eyes. "You mean it? I have plenty of money to pay for one! Oh, it would mean so much to me!"

"I only hope Mystic Mood Rocks will earn a place in toy history as impressive as your family's contributions have been!" Mr. Mystic smiled.

"Yeah, about that," Bugs said, approaching them. "I hate to be the bearer of more negative thoughts, but I don't know if kids are really going to dig mood rocks. They're kind of . . . boring." He reached up and placed his finger under the rim of his glasses to let Squidge slide onto it. "Isn't that right, Squidge?"

Mr. Mystic and Charlie eyed the small, bobbing blue sludge and then each other.

"You may have a point, Son," Charlie said.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Mr. Mystic asked.

"It would certainly solve the clean up problem!" Charlie smiled.

Mr. Mystic held out his hand to Charlie and asked, "Partners?"

Charlie gladly took Mr. Mystic's slimy hand in his own and shook it vigorously. "Partners!"

* * *

It was nearing noon on Monday morning precisely one month after we had solved the sludge monster mystery, and we were sitting around the C.A.P.E.R. room waiting for the phone to ring or for a girl to show.

Sure enough, the door opened and a girl entered. Doomsday was especially happy to see it was Doris, and she entered carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"Doris!" Doomsday said as he dropped his liverwurst, lemon and lychee sandwich wrapped in Lavash to meet her. "Oh, look how pretty your flowers are now!"

"They're growing better than ever, now that all the sludge has been cleaned up," Doris smiled as she handed Doomsday the flowers. "And I have you boys to thank."

"It was our pleasure," Doomsday assured her.

"Oh, and I bought each of you a little something to repay you," she said, revealing a paper gift bag which she'd been hiding behind her back.

"You didn't have to do that," I assured her.

"Oh please! It's the least I could do!" Doris insisted as she pulled four wrapped boxes out of the bag, handing one to each of us. The box she handed Bugs was somewhat larger than the others. "Go on, please! Open them!" she urged.

We all tore into our packages and Doc, Doomsday and I finished opening ours first. "Oh look!" Doomsday said excitedly, holding up the packaging which contained a round, plastic Petrie dish with something oozing around inside. "Pet Sludge!"

"Straight from the Mystek Manufacturing gift shop," Doris explained.

"And look," I said, holding up a clothespin which Doris had included in my package. "She got me an Olfactory Sensory Overload Reverser Device to go with mine! Thank you, Doris."

"Mystek Manufacturing is doing pretty well selling these now, aren't they?" Doc asked as he examined the brightly colored clamshell packaging.

"It's only the latest big fad!" Doomsday said, quickly opening his package and taking out the Petrie dish.

Bugs had finally finished opening his package and was eyeing it excitedly. "Oh, Doris! You shouldn't have! The Pet Sludge Playground Play Set!"

"I knew you already had Squidge, so I thought he might enjoy that to play on," Doris explained. "I hear they really enjoy going down the little slide."

"Squidge will love it!" Bugs assured her as he reached into his pocket and pulled out Doc's glass Petrie dish which contained Squidge. He opened it up and let Squidge crawl out onto the desk. Doomsday had opened his Petrie dish and his pet sludge crawled out onto the desk as well.

They watched as the two small blobs of sludge circled one another and then melded together, changing into a rainbow of colors before pulling apart again.

"It's a brilliant idea," I said. "They're low maintenance, they seem to live a long time, and kids love the fact that their squishy, stinky and sticky."

"And they play well together!" Doomsday smiled. "All you have to do is speak nicely to them to keep them happy."

"And the fact that there's only a limited amount of living sludge makes them real collector's items," Doris pointed out.

"Yeah, Mr. Mystic and Charlie are making their real money from selling the accessories and play sets!" I pointed out.

A look of concern crossed Doc's face as he watched the two blobs join up again and slide across the desk together.

"What is it, Doc?" I asked.

"Oh . . . I was just wondering what would happen if there were ever a convention of Pet Sludge owners," Doc said thoughtfully. "Imagine if all of these individual little Pet Sludges came together at one time!"

"Well, hopefully that's something that will never happen!" I said.

"And we'd just have to talk nicely to them and they'll behave," Doomsday pointed out.

"I suppose so," Doc shrugged, letting the subject drop.

"Doris, would you like to go with us to the opening of the Marek Museum over at the Mystek Manufacturing factory this weekend?" Doomsday asked.

"Sure!" Doris smiled. "That sounds like fun!"

"Can I buy you a Sno Ball?" Doomsday then asked as he scooped up his Pet Sludge into its plastic dish and closed the lid.

"Sure!" Doris said again, following Doomsday out the door.

"Why don't the rest of us go get something to eat as well?" I suggested.

"Sounds good," Bugs said, coaxing Squidge back into his glass dish and closing the lid before setting it on the desk. "The smell of liverwurst is making me hungry. I wonder if we could get some on a pizza?"

Bugs and I exited the C.A.P.E.R. room and Doc stopped to observe the Pet Sludges on the desk, all moving to the edge of their dishes closest to one another as if they were longing to come together. Doc shook his head and walked out after us.

After we had left, Squidge pushed up on the lid of his dish, opening it and crawling out of the container. He slid across the desk to Doomsday's dish and pressed against it, moving in unison with the sludge inside as they both changed colors in sync. The other sludges in their dishes followed their movements and changed colors as well as they all bobbed happily together.

THE END?


End file.
